One night, as a man walked down the street, he saw the ghost of Ginger Rogers floating above him. Extending his left hand, the man invited the ghost to dance. Slowly, Ginger glided down to the earth, and the couple danced beautifully, with the ghost's feet bouncing softly off the sidewalk. They danced for hours, but then the man became hungry, so he escorted Ginger to a Serbian restaurant at the end of the neighborhood. "Sorry, we are full for the night," the hostess said when the couple entered the front door.

"I know I don't have a reservation," the man said, as he wrapped his arm around Ginger's waist and pulled her near. "But I am sure you can accomodate us."

"Again, I apologize," the hostess said. "But dancing with Ginger Rogers doesn't make you Fred Astaire."

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